


Give Me Forty

by destroyugh



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: M/M, hatoful boyfriend - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destroyugh/pseuds/destroyugh
Summary: Shoutout to my fantastic assistant @sashimiprincethey hate my guts but they're helping me figure out how to use ao3





	1. Chapter 1

Right as Sakuya is dozing off to sleep, he feels a hand swat his arm.  
“What? What? I'm… awake,” Sakuya says, slurring his words and letting out a yawn.  
“Sakuya, I've known you since we were teeny tiny little kids. I know when you're lying,” Ryouta says, hand now resting on Sakuya’s arm.  
Sakuya feels a blush rising to his cheeks, but he ignores it. “Or, perhaps, it could just be that I'm a terrible liar?”  
“Hm. Fair point. Why are you sleeping?” Ryouta says, always quick to jump from one subject to another.  
“I'm tired. You kept me up all night, remember?” Sakuya is reminded of the previous night. Ryouta forced him to stay up all night and watch horror movies from the sixties.  
This wasn't an uncommon occurrence in Ryouta and Sakuya’s little apartment. Ever since they moved to the states together, Ryouta has been as hyper as ever.  
“Hm. Sorry excuse. You aren't allowed to nap without me, dude,” Ryouta says, patting Sakuya’s shoulder firmly. He stands up from the couch they're both lounging in and heads for the kitchen.  
Sakuya rolls his eyes, but sits up. Ryouta usually got what he wanted.  
Sakuya was no pushover...At least not usually. Ryouta was just a soft spot for him.  
“Ow, fuck!” Sakuya hears from the kitchen. He's in the kitchen immediately.  
“Ryouta, what's wrong? Is it your back again?” Sakuya asks frantically.  
“I'm fine. I'm fine. Don't worry.”  
_As if I'm not always worried about you,_ Sakuya thought. He kept it to himself.  
He opened the fridge and grabbed Ryouta a fruit cup and water bottle.  
“You don't have to baby me. I can get my own damn fruit cups, thank you very much.” Ryouta was being playful, but there was a tinge of truth to it. He didn't want Sakuya to have to constantly worry about him.  
Ryouta wished he didn't have so many problems. Medical problems. Scoliosis, anemia, hole in the chest plate. He wished he could just be okay. Not constantly in pain.  
Ryouta also has no immune system. He's usually sick.  
“Ryouta, you can barely feed yourself, hurting or not,” Sakuya said, making a good point.  
Ryouta shrugs. “Fair enough. Gimme my plastic cup of sugary, sweet, goodness.” He made grabby hands towards Sakuya.  
“I thought you didn't want me to baby you?”  
“Times have changed, I’m a new man-baby.”  
“Should I feed you, too? Here's come the train! Choo!” Sakuya says, making exaggerated faces. Ryouta laughed. Then he coughed. And coughed some more. He was coughing so much that he was in tears.  
“Sorry,” He apologizes, “I'm getting sick again.”  
“Let's go lay down, okay? You need rest.” Sakuya takes Ryouta by the arm and leads him to his bedroom.  
“Sakuya, I'm fine, really,” Ryouta argued, but still gets in bed regardless.  
“You should really paint your walls a brighter color. The black is pretty depressing,” Sakuya says, sitting at Ryouta’s desk chair.  
“I’m pretty depressing, so it fits.”  
Sakuya rolls his eyes, thinking back to when they first met.  
_“Okay, Sakuya. That's a school. School,” Yuuya enunciates slowly._  
_“School…” Sakuya repeats. His Japanese was still rusty. Yuuya was fluent, so he was teaching him._  
_“I can't believe we’re already here!” Sakuya says in amazement. He holds his mouth open wide, showing off his missing front tooth._  
_“Practice your Japanese!” Yuuya says._  
_“Why do I need to?” Sakuya asks._  
_“No one will understand you.”_  
_Sakuya huffs. They pull into a driveway._  
_“Welcome home!” Their father says, smiling wide at them from the front seat._  
_“Woah!” Sakuya says, hopping out of the car._  
_As soon as he gets out of the car, a rock hits him square in the forehead._  
_“Ryouta, you idiot! You hit that boy!” Sakuya hears._  
_“I didn't see him!” A boy says._  
_Footsteps approach Sakuya. He’s sitting on the sidewalk now, holding back tears._  
_“I'm sorry I hit you with a rock. We were trying to see who could throw it the farthest!” A boy, with bright red eyes says to Sakuya. He sits down beside Sakuya and kisses his forehead. “My mommy does that when I get hurt.” Sakuya blushes._  
_“What's your name? I’m Ryouta and that's Hiyoko!” Ryouta says._  
_“Sakuya.”_  
_“Woah! Your voice is cool!” Ryouta says. Sakuya smiles._  
_“I'm from France. I just moved here.”_  
_“Cool! Will you be my friend?”_  
_“Okay.”_  
_“My house is right there. Come inside! My mom will make you tea!” Sakuya smiled and nodded, following Ryouta to his house._  
_“How old are you?” Ryouta asks, still leading the way._  
_“Eight.”_  
_“Me too! Look, that's my bedroom!”_  
_The first thing Sakuya noticed was how dark the walls were. It seemed too backwards. Shouldn't such a bright kid have a bright room?_  
“Thank you, Sakuya,” Ryouta says.  
“For?” Sakuya asks, shaking out the memory.  
“Everything.”  
_I love you._  
“Of course, Ry. I love you, Dude.” Sakuya pats Ryouta on the back as he leaves the room.  
“More than you could ever know,” He says under his breath.

__

-

Sakuya wakes up the next morning to coughing and heaving. He sprints to the bathroom, and sees Ryouta doubled over the toilet.  
“Ry? Are you okay?” Sakuya asks. His voice trembles a bit.  
“I-I’m just really...Sick…” Ryouta says through his coughs. His breathing is labored, and he looks paler than ever.  
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Sakuya grabs his keys and slips on his shoes.  
For once, Ryouta doesn't argue. That makes Sakuya shake so much he can barely open the door.  
“Why are you so worried about me?” Ryouta asks, his voice husky.  
Sakuya shakes his head. “Ryouta, you're my best friend. You're my favorite person, you've-”  
“Don't get too sentimental, I'm not dead yet,” Ryouta interrupts.  
“Ryouta! Don't say that!” Sakuya squeaks.  
“Sakuya. Please don't worry for me.”  
 _How can I not?_  
Sakuya worries. It's what he does best. 


	2. Chapter 2

_(Sakuya's POV)_

I've been in love with Ryouta since we were ten.  
I wasn't worried about the fact that I liked boys, because I didn't. I liked one boy.  
I was worried about the fact that this said boy was my best friend, Ryouta Kawara.  
I remember when I was sixteen, I went to Yuuya.  
“Yuuya, I have to tell you something?”  
“Are you gay? Please say you're gay,” Yuuya asks, putting down the book he's reading.  
“Well… I'm…”  
“Gay?”  
“Jesus Christ, yes, but that's not what I'm trying to tell you!”  
“Sorry! Continue.”  
Sakuya shut the door as he entered Yuuya’s room. He sat down on the bean chair in the far corner of the room. It was blocked by a bookshelf, so he couldn't see Yuuya lying on his bed.  
“I think I'm in love.” Sakuya shook his head. “No, I _am._ I'm in love.” Sakuya feels tears welling in his eyes. It's the first time he's said it out loud.  
“Love is rough, Buddy. It's even rougher when you’re queer,” Yuuya says quietly. Yuuya has been openly bisexual for… well, forever. He never really ‘came out.’  
“I just wish it could be easy.”  
“It never is. Your heart is gonna get broken, and you might break a few yourself. It's gonna hurt, Sakuya. It'll hurt a lot. But being in love? It's worth _all_ of it.” Yuuya says, sounding far away. Sakuya felt as if he were talking more to himself than Sakuya.  
“Have you?”  
“Have I what?”  
“Been in love, Yuuya.”  
It’s silent for a moment or so. “Yes.” I hear the pages of his book opening, and that's my cue to leave.  
When I was sixteen, I started wearing skinny jeans. I let my hair grow out, and I French braided it. When I was sixteen, I snuck out through my window on the second floor, and so would the boy next door.  
When I was sixteen, I listened to my Morrissey records and wondered what it would be like to say three words to the boy next door.  
_I love you._


	3. Chapter 3

_(Sakuya's POV)_

As Ryouta and I walk in through the hospital double doors, I tie my hair into a messy bun. I didn't get a chance to brush it before we left. I'm still in my pajamas: a grey t-shirt and plaid bottoms.  
After being in the waiting room for nearly three hours, a voice finally calls “Ryouta Kawara?”  
I instinctively stand up to walk with Ryouta, but the doctor who called him says, “Patient and family only.”  
“He's my brother,” Ryouta says.  
The doctor eyes us suspiciously, but doesn't say anything. He takes Ryouta to a room to get his vitals and checks his temperature. He writes something down on a clipboard, then looks up to us. “Follow me.” He takes us to a room, and Ryouta sits down on the bed. I sit in a chair, and look up to the TV in front of Ryouta. The doctor turns it off.  
“Take this. It'll help with your fever.” The doctor hands Ryouta a plastic cup of pills.  
“Fever?” I ask nervously.  
“He has a fever of 103. I'm gonna take some blood and do some other tests, see what we can do. It could be from a number of his medical conditions, or all of them working together,” The doctor explains. His name tag says As Ryouta and I walk in through the hospital double doors, I tie my hair into a messy bun. I didn't get a chance to brush it before we left. I'm still in my pajamas: a grey t-shirt and plaid bottoms.  
After being in the waiting room for nearly three hours, a voice finally calls “Ryouta Kawara?”  
I instinctively stand up to walk with Ryouta, but the doctor who called him says, “Patient and family only.”  
“He's my brother,” Ryouta says.  
The doctor eyes us suspiciously, but doesn't say anything. He takes Ryouta to a room to get his vitals and checks his temperature. He writes something down on a clipboard, then looks up to us. “Follow me.” He takes us to a room, and Ryouta sits down on the bed. I sit in a chair, and look up to the TV in front of Ryouta. The doctor turns it off.  
“Take this. It'll help with your fever.” The doctor hands Ryouta a plastic cup of pills.  
“Fever?” I ask nervously.  
“He has a fever of 103. I'm gonna take some blood and do some other tests, see what we can do. It could be from a number of his medical conditions, or all of them working together,” The doctor explains. His name tag says _Doctor Mupa._  
Ryouta coughs as Doctor Mupa calls in an intern, who begins to put a needle in Ryouta’s arm. “He passes out sometimes! He's anemic! Do you have juice for him?” I say frantically.  
“Yes, I brought him some apple juice and a cookie. Don't worry, Sir,” The intern says with a smile, and Ryouta unwraps the cookie and begins munching on it.  
I've been going to these appointments with Ryouta for as long as I've known him. I've visited him in these hospital beds, I've brought him flowers and read to him. You'd think I’d get less nervous after time, but no. It's like each time Ryouta is fine and we’re in the clear, we end up in these rooms again.  
Ryouta always stays calm. Or at least he pretends to. He tries to act healthier than he actually is. I think he's mostly trying to calm my nerves.  
Today, though, as hard as he tries to joke and seem fine, it's evident that this time is serious. He's shaking hard and coughing. He's paler than ever, and the bags under his eyes are crazy. He seems to get worse by the second.  
After he gets his blood drawn, he coughs into a napkin. He tries to hide it, but when he pulls away, I see red splotches on the tissue. He gets taken to get an X-Ray and CAT scan among other things.  
We’re in the room for thirty minutes before Ryouta falls asleep. After three more hours, Doctor Mupa comes in looking grim.  
“Ryouta, wake up,” I say, lightly shoving him. He jerks up, sputtering out coughs.  
“Mr. Kawara. You're results have come back. I have bad news.” My heart sinks. I'm trembling, but Ryouta puts on a strong face.  
“Well, spit it out already,” Ryouta says shakily.  
“It says that you may only have four years to live.” My stomach does somersaults. The doctor begins explaining further, but everything fades out. I get out of my chair and run out of the room, but it feels like everything's in slow motion. I find the nearest trash can and throw up.  
The sound of me sobbing and also puking echoes back at me, and my mind has shut down.  
Doctor Mupa.  
Ryouta coughs as Doctor Mupa calls in an intern, who begins to put a needle in Ryouta’s arm. “He passes out sometimes! He's anemic! Do you have juice for him?” I say frantically.  
“Yes, I brought him some apple juice and a cookie. Don't worry, Sir,” The intern says with a smile, and Ryouta unwraps the cookie and begins munching on it.  
I've been going to these appointments with Ryouta for as long as I've known him. I've visited him in these hospital beds, I've brought him flowers and read to him. You'd think I’d get less nervous after time, but no. It's like each time Ryouta is fine and we’re in the clear, we end up in these rooms again.  
Ryouta always stays calm. Or at least he pretends to. He tries to act healthier than he actually is. I think he's mostly trying to calm my nerves.  
Today, though, as hard as he tries to joke and seem fine, it's evident that this time is serious. He's shaking hard and coughing. He's paler than ever, and the bags under his eyes are crazy. He seems to get worse by the second.  
After he gets his blood drawn, he coughs into a napkin. He tries to hide it, but when he pulls away, I see red splotches on the tissue. He gets taken to get an X-Ray and CAT scan among other things.  
We’re in the room for thirty minutes before Ryouta falls asleep. After three more hours, Doctor Mupa comes in looking grim.  
“Ryouta, wake up,” I say, lightly shoving him. He jerks up, sputtering out coughs.  
“Mr. Kawara. You're results have come back. I have bad news.” My heart sinks. I'm trembling, but Ryouta puts on a strong face.  
“Well, spit it out already,” Ryouta says shakily.  
“It says that you may only have four years to live.” My stomach does somersaults. The doctor begins explaining further, but everything fades out. I get out of my chair and run out of the room, but it feels like everything's in slow motion. I find the nearest trash can and throw up.  
The sound of me sobbing and also puking echoes back at me, and my mind has shut down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my fantastic assistant @sashimiprince
> 
> they hate my guts but they're helping me figure out how to use ao3


	4. Chapter 4

_(Ryouta's POV)_

“It could be sooner than that. It most likely will. You have a maximum of four years.”  
I should be crying. I want to cry. I try to cry.  
But I can't.  
“Can you get this IV off me?” I ask quietly.  
“No, Mr-”  
“Get them off me. Get them off of me!” My breathing gets heavier, and the tears are coming now.  
“Sakuya! Sakuya!” I need Sakuya.  
“Ryouta?” He's in the room as soon as I call him. His eyes are red and puffy.  
“Sakuya, I can't breathe, they won't get these IV’s off me, I can't be here-” I choke out a sob.  
Sakuya wraps his arms around me. “Shh, shh. It's okay. Breathe.” His words are soothing. My breathing steadies, and I lay there, in my best friend’s shoulder. I ball up the back of his shirt with my fist, breathing in a sob. I cry into him.  
Mupa’s already left. I'm grateful. I hug Sakuya as tight as I can.  
Four years seems like a long time, but in perspective, it's no time at all. Four years ago I was fifteen. In four years I'll be dead.  
“I barely have four years, Sakuya,” I say. “I could die tomorrow.” The thought terrified me.  
“The doctors are wrong. You'll live forever. You can't let me pay the electric bill alone.” I laugh into Sakuya’s shirt.  
“I… I only have four years,” I whisper. I pull away from Sakuya, and he looks me dead in the eyes.  
“Give me forty.”  
Forty years, with Sakuya by my side.  
What a dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to me and @sashimiprince for being the only people keeping the sakuryou tag alive


End file.
